Touch
by remembrallvsthesilence
Summary: Sebastian is called away to fight in a war between angels and demons. When he returns, he senses that something is wrong with his Young Master...  Might up the rating due to later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I do not own Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler). I cry.

Touch

Chapter 1

Ciel Phantomhive wasn't afraid of very much. He could stand being threatened, and he knew how to shoot a gun (which, by the way, he would not hesitate to use) and he could have laughed in the face of many an infuriated noble, if, of course, it would have befitted an earl such as himself. As it was, Ciel had to make do with outwitting his meek adversaries. While he could not win in a fist fight with most, Ciel could outsmart many and have them eating out of the palm of his hand in mere seconds.

What Ciel Phantomhive _was _afraid of… was touch. He couldn't stand the hugs that Elizabeth so _kindly_ graced him with, and even the brushes of Sebastian's hand when he was dressing Ciel made him have to prevent a shudder. However, what with meeting so many people throughout his short live, Ciel realized he'd have to permit certain peoples to touch him. That wasn't to say that Ciel would allow them to do it often, (he was terrible with anything containing the words comfort, intimate, and, God forbid, hug) but he wasn't _heartless._

Soulless, maybe, but that was a different matter entirely. And yes, Ciel could be a little hard on people close to him, but he didn't want them to _die_ for him or anything. Just because he didn't let anyone too close did not mean that Ciel couldn't feel anything. Ciel had felt many things in the past…Some very pleasant, and others…not so much.

The fire cast a pleasant glow over Ciel's office, lighting the page up as he wrote out a report of the queen. He had to get it in by tomorrow, and, while it was getting late, Ciel couldn't stop before he had this finished. A knock at the door, much sharper than what Ciel was used to, made him jump. He wondered vaguely if the visitor, (who had to be Sebastian, no one else was brave enough to interrupt Ciel's work) had been knocking for some time now.

Bah, he was an earl; his butler could wait if he wanted him to.

"Come in," Ciel murmured, just loud enough to be heard on the other side of the door. Not that he needed to, really, Sebastian could probably hear his breathing from the other side of the manor. The door swung open, not hard enough to hit the wall behind it, but enough to startle Ciel. He looked up- and caught sight of his butler's face.

Sebastian looked distinctly more ruffled than usual. Granted, that wasn't saying much, since he never looked ruffled, even facing imminent death, so there were only the subtlest of signs that said not everything was right. But his butler's eyes were just a tad wider than usual, his breath coming just a bit too fast. His clothing, while completely free of stains or wrinkles, was just a little out of place.

_Oh, no._ Ciel thought. _Something is definitely wrong._

"What is it?' He asked, refusing to admit to the slight tone of concern in his voice. It was, after all, his butler's job to keep the manor running to perfection. So, if Sebastian were to appear as he did, Ciel could only be justified in worrying. About the manor, that is. Yes. Shaking his head mentally at himself, Ciel decided that it would be best for both occupants of the room if he focused on the matter at hand.

"Young Master…" Sebastian started, and then trailed off. Ciel frowned. Trailing off? There was something seriously wrong here.

"Yes?" He asked impatiently.

"_Bocchan_, I-" His butler sighed, straightening his clothes, pulling himself together. Ciel was reminded of a mask slipping into place as Sebastian's face cleared.

"Yes, yes, what is it, Sebastian?" Ciel asked. Panic had started to swirl in his abdomen, but when Sebastian pulled himself together, irritation took its place. "Look, Sebastian, I have quite a lot of work for the queen to do, so I'd appreciate it if-"

"Master, I'm afraid I must depart," Sebastian interrupted.

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><p>AN: So, what do you think? It's my first ever story on , so keep that in mind. Sorry if the characters are a little OOC, I'm still getting the hang of it. Reviews and constructive criticism are appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I still don't own Kuroshitsuji. Not to fear. IT WILL BE MINE!

ouch

Chapter 2

One…

Two…

Three…

Three weeks, and still, nothing. Three whole weeks, and Sebastian hadn't come back! You'd think a demon could get a war done _faster_! But, no, apparently, Sebastian was so busy with his precious little war with the angels that he'd left! He'd left Ciel alone, and Sebastian was his best piece, his knight among pawns, and he's just up and abandoned Ciel! The nerve that butler had!

Not that Ciel cared, or anything. No, he was much too busy with avoiding Lizzy and signing papers and drinking tea, and… What was he supposed to be busy with, again?

The chair in his study was creaking slightly. Ciel sighed in annoyance, the rain hammering against the window masking the soft sound. He'd have to get Sebastian to…

Humph. He didn't need Sebastian, anyway. He didn't need any of those fools to take care of him, he'd do it himself.

In fact, he was already to such. After Sebastian left, the three idiots that couldn't possible even come close to upholding the Phantomhive name had gotten even worse. Within the hour, the kitchen had been blown up twice, the garden was in shreds, Pluto almost ran away, and there were only a few whole pieces of china left. At the end of it all, all three of them had been sent away, given a surprise vacation (a relief on both ends, really) and had taken the carriage out to town for a day off.

Come to think of it, where were those three? It had started raining around three, and it was about five now. They had gone out at eleven; it should have been more than enough time to spend whatever meager amounts of money they each had.

Well, they weren't important anyway. All those three did was annoy him and distract Ciel from his work. Ciel sighed quietly. Admittedly, he hadn't gotten any work done that day. He'd woken up late to Mey-Rin banging on his door and tripping over her own feet to serve him lukewarm tea, couldn't figure out how to tie one of his bows for a full twenty minutes, passed up a charred luncheon, and by that time, had no strength or resolve left to face the mountains of paperwork he no doubt had to deal with.

Now it was late, the rain wasn't helping Ciel's pounding head in the least, and he was ravenous. He sighed and stood, making his was to the door. His footsteps echoed throughout the empty manor. Ciel would go to the kitchen, and with any luck, Sebastian would have thought ahead and made something that could keep when Bard undoubtedly failed to cook any meals.

The kitchen was a large, unfamiliar place to Ciel, who was used to ordering food and having it appear before him as if by magic. However, that didn't mean that he was an idiot. He could recognize a stove and a pantry when he saw them. He bypassed the old fruit in a bowl on the counter, which Bard seemed to have forgotten altogether, and went for the pantry. Maybe he could figure out how to make himself some Earl Grey. It couldn't be that hard, could it? Just boil the water and add the leafs. Now, how to get the stove going…

But the pantry was empty. Completely empty. All that remained were some odds and ends, some empty crates that used to hold expensive delicacies. Ciel sighed, slamming the pantry doors shut in his irritation. Why could something just be easy, go right for him for a change? No, everything had to be gotten the hard way!

Ciel's stomach rumbled loudly, interrupting his thoughts and reminding him that he'd had almost nothing to eat all day. Ciel glanced quickly at the bowl of fruit on the counter and wrinkled his nose. The rain eased up a little on the roof, and he looked towards the door. Ciel had a choice. Stay here and either go without food all day or east the moldy fruit. Or go out into the rain and try to get to town fast enough through the rain and buy some food.

Ciel grumbled to himself, hurrying upstairs to don a thick coat. No, nothing was every easy for the Earl Phantomhive.

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><p>AN: Sorry this took so long to upload, wasn't letting me into my account, and then it wouldn't let me upload. Reviews and constructive criticism appreciated, flames ignored!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer:(A/N: I don't know why, but my disclaimers haven't been showing up in the other chapters, enen tough I put them there. Sorry about that.) I do not own Kuroshitsuji. I cry.

A/N: I am so sorry about not updating- life has been getting in the way to much. Thank you all for all the kind words and alerts and favorites-it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside! Reviews make me happy!

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><p>Chapter 3<p>

_The rain pounded on the pavement. Ciel's steps were hurried, splashing water in his wake as he searched._

Sebastian opened the door, unsurprised to see the Young Master looking out the window.

_Pounding footsteps behind him. No… No! _

The teacups didn't even rattle as Sebastian set them carefully on the desk.

_Blood rushed through Ciel's veins. Faster. Faster._

The Young Master had taken to eating alone in his room now.

_He had to be faster._

Lady Elizabeth hadn't been over since before Sebastian had left for the war.

_He had to get away!_

Ciel hadn't even reacted to seeing Sebastian back at his post when he had returned. No spiteful words, no teasing- nothing.

_The footsteps were getting weaker now-or was the rain muffling them?_

It… unsettled Sebastian. And there was little in this world-or the next, for that matter- that could unsettle Sebastian.

_That wasn't possible, was it? Shouldn't the rain alert him to their presence, not dull the sounds of pursuit?_

In fact, now that he through about it, Sebastian realized that _Bocchan _hardly reacted to anything, lately.

_There- he heard it._

He didn't ask for certain desserts.

_The sounds- like a predator's, stalking its prey._

He hadn't said anything about an investigation for weeks now.

_Stalked-he was being stalked._

Lessons disinterested him- more so than usual.

_Prey-was that all he was? All that anyone ever saw him as?_

Rain tapped softly on the windowpanes.

_Where- where could Ciel hide?_

He outright refused to take any music lessons.

_Why couldn't he hear anything?_

Rain tapped softly on the windowpanes. It had to be Sebastian's imagination-Ciel wouldn't flinch away from rain, would he?

_Where were they? Why couldn't he hear them anymore? Was he safe-or were they fanning out, getting ready to catch him, trap him like an animal?_

Sounds seemed to bother him now.

_Why couldn't he think straight?_

Bocchan had almost no contact-human, at least-now. Not even the rest of the staff.

_A place to hide, he had to find a place to hide!_

He hardly ever talked. If he did, his voice was quiet. Still self-assured, as it usually was (as it should be), but quiet.

_Noises behind him. No, no, don't think about that now. Just hide. There-through there!_

The rest of the staff knew something. Sebastian was sure of it.

_The darkness loomed ahead, ready to swallow him whole. Well, that wasn't too daunting, was it? Ciel knew that was going to happen to him at some point, anyway. He had sold his soul, after all._

He just had to find out what.

_His breathing was harsh in his own ears. Quiet. Quiet now, so no one could find him. Like that child's game-what was it called?_

Sebastian was confidant that he could get it out of them.

_ Hide and Seek?_

After all, this was _**Bocchan**_. How bad could his new secret be, considering all of his others?

_ Yes, Hide and Seek. Let's all play hide and seek, boys and girls._

Sebastian hesitated for a moment, then, hazarding a risk, reached out to Ciel.

_Quiet, children, or the boogieman will catch you. You don't want to be caught by the boogieman, now do you?_

"Young Master?"

_Shadows, men's broad-shouldered shadows, blocked out what little light there was left at the end of the ally. Ciel huddled behind a wooden box._

His fingertips, clothed in pristine white gloves, just faintly brushed Ciel's right shoulder.

_Why wasn't someone coming to help him?_

Ciel _flinched_.

'_Sebastian? Where are you, Sebastian? You were supposed to protect me.'_

Sebastian pulled back, as if burned. "Bocchan…?"

_Safety was just an illusion._


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I still don't own Kuroshitsuji. :( However, I do have a new editor! Thank you, TheAUWalker!  
>AN: Yay, another chapter! So, I actually had a lot of fun writing this chapter, but I also felt that I had all the characters' personalities wwwaaayyy off, but then, you already knew they'd be kinda OOC, right?:) Anyway, I wrote about another character this time, not just Ciel or Sebastian. This chapter, we get to see a bit of Mey Rin! Expect Finny and Bard to come in soon, too!

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><p>Chapter 4<p>

China plates fell, smashing into so many pristine, clean white shards. Shards that would spell Mey Rin's punishment, if Sebastian had anything to do with it. Mey Rin pushed her glasses higher up her nose and squinted out of them. To borrow a phrase from Bard, 'Well, hell.'

This was not good. However, it was the usual. So her punishment couldn't be that bad, right? Right?

Footsteps sounded from down the hall. Mey Rin fought the urge to squeal and turned, also suppressing an inner sigh. Right. As she had anticipated, Sebastian was striding confidently down the hall, purpose in his stance. Mey Rin braced herself for what was to come. However, the scathing words of reprimand, masked by cheerful politeness, never came.

She took a chance and cracked open her eyes. Sebastian had somehow managed to clean up the mess in the few seconds that she had had her eyes closed.

Mey Rin chose not to question that.

He was standing right in front of her, hands clasped behind his back. "Mey Rin." It was a statement.

Mey Rin gulped. Here it was. "Y-yes, Sebastian?"  
>Sebastian smiled at her, and it sent shivers down Mey Rin's spine. "I have some questions for you, Mey Rin."<p>

Oh, no, this could not be good. Where were the Young Master's senseless demands of Sebastian when you needed them? Mey Rin broke that thought off, biting the inside of her cheeks. The Young Master…Ciel…

"Mey Rin?" Sebastian's voice broke her out of her thoughts.  
>"Oh- OH, right! Of course, Sebastian! I'll answer your questions the best I<br>can! That's what a servant of the Phantomhive Manor should do, yes?" She faltered when she met Sebastian's unwavering gaze. It was like he was looking into her soul… "I mean, that is to say-I just meant-uhm…" Sebastian gestured to the sitting room Mey Rin had just been carrying the best set of china into.

"If you would be so kind as to sit down?"  
>"Yes, o-of course." Mey Rin said meekly. She perched on the edge of one of the plush armchairs next to the fireplace. Sebastian settled himself, elegant as ever, into the one across from her's.<p>

"You know, of course, that I am trusting you to be completely honest with me, don't you, Mey Rin?"  
>His eyes unsettled her. "Yes, of course," Mey Rin replied uneasily.<br>A smirk curved the corners of Sebastian's lips. "Excellent. Now- how did everything go in my absence?"

Mey Rin was, to say the least, surprised. Though, in hindsight, why should she be? It was obvious that everything in the manor operated solely because of Sebastian. "Well…Bard didn't burn down the house, y-yes… And um, I tried to polish the silverware, but I didn't really know how…" She winced as Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "And…Oh, Finny made sure to give the roses lots of water!" Mey Rin offered eagerly, wanting to please him.

Sebastian didn't even blink. "Is that the cause of the moat in the front yard that I was greeted with? And, while you did not do such a good job at polishing the silverware, you certainly did very well in tarnishing it. And I must say, the burn marks in the kitchen really don't add to the décor." When Sebastian saw her deflate, he added, pityingly, "However, you didn't burn the manor down, it's true… And I believe I've seen you take worse care of this place."

Contrary to popular belief, Mey Rin wasn't stupid. She knew flattery when she saw it (or heard it, as it were), and even if Sebastian was a bit offhanded, she could tell he wanted something.

"Sebastian- I mean," She stopped to clear her throat. "Is there any  
>particular reason that you're asking me this?"<br>He tilted his head and gave her another chilling smile. "What kind of butler would I be if I didn't ask after the manor's state?" When Mey Rin actually held firm to her resolve for once, he grew even more serious.

"Truly, Mey Rin, you, Bardory, and Finnian didn't do such a _terrible_ job. After all, the house is still standing." He looked down at his neatly folded hands, then back up at her. "And _Bocchan's_health? Did you make sure he was well cared for in my absence?"

Mey Rin wouldn't have thought that this was such a strange question for Sebastian to ask before…well, before _it_. He obviously cared for the Young Master, probably more so than any of the servants. Even if neither he nor Ciel would admit it. However, if Sebastian was asking her this, that meant that the Young Master hadn't told him, and if Ciel hadn't told Sebastian, then that meant Sebastian wanted the others to tell him, and Mey Rin wasn't so sure about that.

"I'm sorry if-if this is bold of me, but-" Mey Rin swallowed her heart back into her chest from where it had been positioned in her throat, and tried to gather her courage. Mey Rin could have taken out a whole team of professional assassins in a matter of seconds without batting an eye, but if she made Sebastian upset, well, that would be that, wouldn't it? "Do you, uhm, that is to say- did the Young Master tell you anything? Ab-about the-happenings- while you were away?" Best just to get it out in the open, Mey Rin thought dully.

The change in Sebastian's demeanor wasn't instantly noticeable. In fact, it was so subtle, that if Mey Rin hadn't lived at the Phantomhive Manor for so long, she wouldn't have recognized any change. But it was there, the dimming of the room's lighting, the fire's increased crackle, the slightest shifting of the shadows behind Sebastian's armchair.

Mey Rin chose not to question this, either.

"What happenings, Mey Rin?" When she hesitated, he lean forward and continued, quite pleasantly, "You promised to tell me the truth, remember? I would like to know what has transpired, Mey Rin. _Now_, please."

If that wasn't a veiled threat, Mey Rin didn't know what was. She turned her head, gazing into the fire. "I kn-know I did, S-Sebastian. B-but it's j-just…" When there wasn't any prompting, Mey Rin twisted her hands in her lap. "I-I don't think that the Young Master would appreciate me m-much if I t-told y-you, th-that's all." Before Sebastian could say anything else to get her to give him the information that was so precious, she had jumped to her feet. Mey Rin backed out of the room slowly. "I-I think th-that the Y-Young Master sh-should tell you himself. It's-" Mey Rin turned, but calledover her shoulder as she hurried away, "it's really his to tell."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Sigh. I_ still _don't own it. Thanks to TheAUWalker for editing.

A/N: So... Sebastian didn't actually talk to any of the other servants in this one. I'm sorry! I was going to have Bard talk to him, but I decided to have Sebastian talk to Ciel instead, because I feel we haven't really seen a lot of Ciel and Sebastian together. Or at all. Anyway, not much yaoi or anything, but there are hints. Vague, subtle hints. But they're there! Again, expect some more of the servants soon and maybe even some Point of View a la Ciel!

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><p>Chapter 5<p>

The burns in the kitchen weren't_ terribly _hard to get out, Sebastian supposed. Although, nothing was terribly hard for him. He was, after all, simply one hell of a butler.

However, what was proving difficult for him was finding his Young Master. Sebastian had looked in the study, the Earl's bedroom, and the dining hall. He had walked quietly through the billiards room and all the hallways in the second floor. Sebastian had checked the garden and the stables, the kitchen and the parlor room. He had finally resorted to searching through each and every one of the guest bedrooms. He half expected _Bocchan_ to be sitting in Lady Elizabeth's bedroom and reminiscing about her ladyship, as was to be expected from a lover who had not seen their fiancée in as long as Ciel had. That thought had ignited a fire inside Sebastian's chest that he cared not to question.

When Sebastian did find Ciel, he was out on the balcony of one of the guest rooms. He almost hadn't found him. Sebastian probably wouldn't have, had it not been for the fact that he registered breathing from across the room. Sure enough, when a breeze passed through the sheer white curtains, they parted to reveal his master's small form.

The day was almost over, evening fading into twilight, and the cold of the winter season was upon them. And yet, the Young Master showed no sign of being chilled. In fact, his _Bocchan_ did not move a muscle as Sebastian crossed the room and stepped up behind him. He took up his customary spot to the side of Ciel's right shoulder.

Ciel did not speak.

Sebastian knew that Ciel could sense his presence, that he knew Sebastian was there. However, the youth did not seem inclined to speak. He just stood, looking out over the tree tops, hands resting flat on the rough stone surface of the balcony's railing. Sebastian debated breaking the silence for a moment before glancing out over the forest as well.

With winter well on its way, not many animals stirred the trees' branches. From this vantage point, nothing seemed to be moving in the depths of the forest. On the manor's grounds, Finny was chasing Pluto around the garden, destroying everything around the two in the process. Smoke unfurled from the kitchen window, but it wasn't thick and black yet, so Sebastian merely suppressed a sigh. And he had just finished cleaning up, too. As far as he could see, nothing about the scenery seemed out of the ordinary.

Sebastian wondered what the Young Master could be looking at.

"This will all be gone." The words were quiet and sudden, and silence fell again immediately after them, as if neither of the pair had ever spoken. Sebastian looked down sharply at Ciel's soft comment, but was only greeted with the boy's profile.

"My Lord?"

Ciel did not respond, content to look out across the land he had lived on from birth. "Someday. This, all of this will be gone someday." His Young Master did not blink, nor did he move any other muscle. It seemed he was frozen in time and space itself. "My manor and its workers. My family's land." The thumb on which Ciel's prized ring sat caressed the stone railing beneath his fingers lightly. "The Phantomhive name and its meaning. I myself. We shall all disappear into the folds of history itself and will never be remembered." A pause. Sebastian remained silent. What was going through his Lord's mind? "But you won't, will you, Sebastian? You won't ever completely disappear. And yet, in a way, you will never appear in history as well. No one will ever remember your face and have a name to attach it to that they can be certain it is true. Will they, Sebastian?"

Sebastian blinked before smoothing his features back into his normal calm expression. Inside, he felt a sinking feeling. What had happened to make Ciel react this way? He had never seen anything like this from the young Earl. "My Lord, I do not believe I completely understand you-"

"No." Ciel's voice had turned hard, harder than any time Sebastian could remember. "No, I don't believe you understand me either, Sebastian. Not at all."

His _Bocchan_'s hands were clenched into fists atop the stone. But Ciel had yet to turn to look at Sebastian. He fought the sudden urge to reach out to his Lord, to shake him and demand what was wrong. Instead, he pressed his hand over his heart and bowed. "I apologize, My Lord."

Ciel's fingers relaxed slightly, but remained curled. "It is of no consequence. You may go."

Instead of follow the indirect dismissal, Sebastian teetered on the edge of speech before taking the plunge. "If I could ask _Bocchan_ what has changed his mood lately?"

Ciel whirled, and right before a mask of clam slipped over his features, Sebastian caught a glimpse of something else entirely. "You may not ask, Sebastian. You may not ask, because nothing occurred."

"My Lord, Mey Rin seems to believe otherwise."

"Mey Rin is mistaken, then. I will be retiring to my quarters now."

Sebastian tipped his head and stood to the side as Ciel passed. "My Lord."

As he watched _Bocchan_'s retreating form, Sebastian felt his resolve to find out what had happened in his absence grow stronger. Because he had seen something when his Young Master turned to him. He had seen fear-pure, unadulterated fear of the worst kind. And if the feeling that was radiating around and through the manor had any substance to it…

Sebastian had to know. He would have to consult one of the others now, he supposed. He must know-at all costs.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji…._Yet. _Thanks to TheAUWalker for editing.

A/N: I feel really mean. Like, "Oh my God, I think I might go die, I feel so mean!" Seriously. You'll see what I'm talking about.

Chapter 6

Bard's cigarette had gone out. He gritted his teeth against the stub in his mouth and threw some spices into the frying pan on the stove. This meal was taking far too long to cook. Maybe if he used the flame thrower….

No, Sebastian had told him not to do it. But if he could get it done without him knowing, like if he sent Finny out to make a moat again in the front lawn while Bard himself was using the tool, it might be enough to keep the butler away. However, if the Young Master didn't have a decent dinner tonight…

Bard gritted his teeth together again, and slammed his pot down with force enough to knock some of his ingredients out of the pan down to the floor. That would be the third night in a row the Young Master hadn't eaten, and Bard was pretty sure the Young Master hadn't taken in a bite of food all day. His Lord had to be finding some pretty inventive hiding places for the excess food to be getting that past Sebastian.

Bard rolled his eyes. What the hell was that damned butler thinking, leaving the manor? Everyone, even Tanaka, knew that they couldn't get on without Sebastian, but no, he just had to go and leave Ciel to deal with…

"Bloody hell," Bard muttered, running a hand back through his hair. A sudden rush of air arrived from behind him. Pan raised high in the air, Bard whirled around to see Sebastian standing behind him. He frowned.

"Sebastian?" The man's mouth curved into a slight smile. Bard sincerely hoped that the butler hadn't heard him thinking about his flame thrower. That smile could cause nightmares.

"Hello, Bardroy." Sebastian gestured to the stove. "What is it exactly that you are…attempting?"

Bard bristled. "This isn't just simple meal preparing," He said, under his breath, of course. Sebastian was hurrying to take the smoking pan off the stove. "This is art."

"Indeed," Sebastian replied, dryly, and Bard paled slightly. "Would you mind, then, if you took a break from your _art_ and come with me?"

Bardroy swallowed thickly and then nodded hesitantly. "Yeah, 'course Sebastian." They walked quietly down the hall, turning right into a sitting room. Sebastian closed the heavy oak door behind Bardroy. Was it strange that he had gotten the chills?

"So, uh-," Bard clear his throat, hoping against hope his voice didn't crack. "What'd' a need, Sebastian? I was kinda in the middle of something…"

Sebastian smiled again, and Bard gulped. It was fine, just great, he could do this. Sebastian sat in the armchair beside the one that Bard himself had settled into and pierced him with a sharp look. "Now you know that it won't do for you to lie?" Bard nodded. Yep, he could do this. No sweat. Bard glanced at Sebastian's red eyes. Oh, shit, he couldn't do this.

Sebastian nodded. "Now. If you'd be so kind as to tell me all of what happened during the time I was away?"

Bardroy bristled slightly. "We didn't do nothing wrong, if that's what you're implying, Sebastian. We did our best, just like the Phantomhive staff is supposed to." When Sebastian merely raised an eyebrow, Bard sighed and ruffled his hair again. "Fine. So we did all our chores in the morning, might have messed up a little, but nothing too major. Oh," Bard paused, swallowing. He looked down at his hands. The young Lord hadn't said anything to Sebastian. That obviously meant that the whole house had to be silent about the happenings. But was this really in the Young Master's best interests? Maybe if Bard told Sebastian, the butler could help somehow.

"Yes?" Sebastian prodded, leaning just slightly forward. Bard cleared his throat gruffly.

"Nothing else, except we went to the market; me, Finny, and Mey-Rin. Not much to report, really."

"Oh? And _Bocchan_?" Bardroy's blood ran cold. Of course, _of course_ Sebastian knew something was up. Nothing got past the man.

"What do you mean?" Bard asked, darting his gaze around the room, at the glass that had been left on the side table, out the window at the swirling, dark clouds threatening a storm, anywhere but at Sebastian.

"Do not pretend that you don't know of what I am referring to, Bardroy." Sebastian's voice was ominous, deadly.

"I- I really don't-" Sebastian's fingers were slowly curling into fists. He could feel the butler's temper rising, the room darkening as rain began to splatter the windowpanes, and the forgotten drinking class of the side table cracked right down the middle. Bard pressed himself back into the chair, as far as he could get away from Sebastian. But, just as he was trying to keep his lips from trembling, and Sebastian opened his mouth to reprimand the cook again, and there was a clap of thunder, they both heard it.

Upstairs, so distantly that if the thunder had struck at exactly the wrong moment that it wouldn't have been audible, a faint crash was heard. Bard's limbs felt encased in ice. There wasn't anyone up there but-

The Young Master.

Before he fully processed what he was doing, Bardroy was already out of the room and pounding up the stairs. Sebastian's shocked face was the last thing he had seen as he ran passed, and it almost left an afterimage. Bard darted down the hallway, toward the Lord's chambers. Sebastian was right behind him, Bard could feel his presence, but he didn't register it.

If something had happened, if the Young Master was reacting to the rain without anyone there, without any distraction, it would all be on Bard's shoulders, he wouldn't ever get a chance to make up for his mistakes. Why, oh why, did he have to work downstairs, why did Sebastian have to leave the Lord…?

The door was locked, but Bard put his shoulder to it and shoved. It jolted in its frame but did not give. And then Sebastian was there, brushing him out of the way, twisting the knob deftly in his hand, crushing it-_how did he do that, that wasn't normal-no, don't think of that just now, just get inside-_and the door swung open.

The curtains were fluttering open in a breeze, the windows open and letting torrents of rain stain the carpet beneath. The bedside table was covered in shattered glass, the handle of a looking glass connected to a large shard of the mirror. The curtains around the bed had been tugged hastily shut, leaving a slight gap. For a moment, there was silence. Then a whimpering sound came from the gloom behind the curtains. Bard swallowed, turning to Sebastian. He thought he caught a pained expression cross the butler's face at the noise, but he passed it off as his own wild imagination. "Could you shut the window?" When Sebastian took a step towards the bed, Bard held up a hand. "Please, Sebastian?" Bardroy glanced be hind him, in the direction of the bed. "I-I think the rain scares the Young Master," the chef muttered lowly, not wanting the Lord in question to hear. Sebastian studied Bard's face for the briefest of seconds before whipping around to the window.

Meanwhile, Bard stepped up to the foot of the bed. The Young Master was definitely in there, he could hear the Lord's-_the boy's, he's just a child, oh God-_ ragged breathing, hear the scared noises ripping their way from within his throat. A large, uncomfortably thick lump formed in Bard's throat. "My Lord?"

No answer. Bardroy pulled back the curtain's just slightly. The bedclothes were twisted and crumpled into a frightful nest, the pillows scattered here and there. Up at the top of the bed, quite well hidden in the darkness and nestled in yet more pillows, was the Young Master.

His knees were drawn up to his chest, his face hidden in his arms, which rested upon his legs. The boy's hair fell forward to hide his forehead and his clothes were rumpled. The Young Master had never changed out of his sleep clothes.

Bard blinked harshly, making his way around the edge of the mattress. He couldn't leave the Young Master now, not when he obviously needed someone… Bardroy gently placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. The young lord didn't react. Cautiously, he edged over, leaning down slightly. "My Lord?" No response. The Young Master's shoulders shook, and Bard tightened his hold slightly. The boy flinched.

Bard pulled away as if burned, but kept his position on the edge of the bed. "My Lord, it's alright," He murmured, glancing up helplessly to Sebastian, who was watching from the foot of the bad. Bard had a feeling that if anything happened, he'd be thrown out of the room-probably with a few broken bones- in three seconds flat. Two, if it were really bad.

Bard sighed, and, taking a chance, draped an arm around the boy's form. He didn't miss Sebastian's tensing, but decided to dwell on this later. Reaching up, Bard placed a gentle, rough hand on the back of his master's head. Glancing up again, he avoided Sebastian's eyes. "It's alright now. Sebastian's home now, and," He looked around for help, but found none. "And the storm will pass soon. We're all here, safe and sound. We're safe." The Young Master didn't reply, but his shoulders sagged, and he relaxed slightly into Bard's arms.

Bard looked up at Sebastian, noting the same pained expression crossing the man's face. Swallowing the stubborn lump in his throat, Bard managed to mouth a single sentence over his master's dark hair, ignoring the sudden inexplicable wetness in Bard's own eyes. _I told you he didn't like the rain._

A/N: See? Okay, so I just want to get this out there: I do not like the way this turned out. I've literally rewritten this chapter five times, and I still can't find the angle I want. I personally think this gives away way too much of the plot, but hey, Sebastian's gotta find out eventually, right? And also, I thought that Bard was _way_ too out of character, but I was trying to get a "big brother" vibe going...oh well. Anyway, thanks for all the people who're reviewed and alerted and all that. You guys make my day! And don't worry, things will get better for our favorite Young Master!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Here you go, next chapter of Touch! I had a few ideas for this chapter, however, as I'm still working out all the kinks in Finny's chapter-don't worry Finny lovers, he _will_ get his time to shine- I decided to show a little of what Ciel is thinking. Thanks to TheAUWalker for editing. Until next time, don't forget to review, and on with the chapter!

Disclaimer: I _still_ don't own it.

Touch 7

'_Get away- get away from me!'_

Stifling noises.

_'No-No!' _

Loud footsteps.

_ Can't get out- no way out. _

Rushed breaths between his frozen lips.

_Why wasn't there an escape? _

Brushed by old, broken down wooden crates.

_Where had the light gone? _

Stone beneath his shoes.

_Cold walls- when had the alley become so much smaller? _

Thoughts raced through his mind.

_Quiet-just for a moment…_

Surely he wouldn't be found?

_Raindrops sliding down his pale skin, collecting at his chin, nose, the ends of his hair. _

It was so quiet, after all that rush-the patter of rain was the only sound; could he be alone?

_His finger tips were icy-well, what was he to expect, out in the rain so long?_

What was that?

_No, he was safe, he's gotten away._

One of the crates at the entrance tipped over at spilled its contents.

_ Oh, Oh God, if there was anyone there, help, no, can't let myself die, won't die begging, WON'T DO IT._

Keep running, breathing, had to keep the air in his lungs, keep his legs pumping, blood rushing, _had to keep the distance_.

_Couldn't give up, no, had been through too much, wouldn't let go now, not this time. Not this time._

Crates were replaced with planks of wood, deceptive against the dark of the night. He kept tripping.

_Weapon-what to use? Plank of wood? No, couldn't lift it high enough. Cane? Oh, damn, where was his cane? _

How many were there? And why hadn't he thought to bring his gun? Could he fight-no, he was too weak for that; asthma starting to kick up, just like his heart rate.

_ Best just to run, try to trick his way out. _

He could do it, he could, he could, hecouldhecouldhecouldhe…

_Why wasn't there help? There was always help, always strong arms around him, warm coat around his shoulders, there was always protection._

_hecouldgetaway…_

_Where was that protection now?_

Pain; it appeared, the pain, ripping him apart, tearing into his soul, shredding his skin.

_Taken away; one second there, the next vanishing into thin air. _

Dear God, please, something stop the pain!

_As if it had never truly been there in the first place._

Had to do something, someone had to do something…

_Yes, that had to be it. It wasn't ever _really_ there. _

There was no one to do anything for him now.

_The arms had been a mere fancy._

There was no aid.

_The coat a phantom weight around his form._

There was only him.

_ The protection disappearing into a veil of mist at the moment he was in need of it._

Only him.

_ Hadn't he tried hard enough to gain that sacred comfort?_

Alone.

_He'd given up everything, everything._

Air stopping in his lungs.

_He'd kept up his part of the deal._

His limbs felt like lead, dead weight.

_So…_

He was so cold, so_ numb._

_So what had he done to deserve this?_

A binding weight settled on his chest, crushing his ribs.

_No silence now, oh no, lots of noise-human noise._

No use crushing his lungs.

_Should he be screaming?_

They had already stopped working.

_He supposed he should be._

Hadn't been working since his protection left.

_Were those tears or raindrops on his face?_

The light in his soul was gone too, eyes fading, dimming…

_'Sshhh.'_

Covers, thick and warm, wrapped around his body. Ciel sat bolt upright in bed, gasping. Sweat made his skin cold and clammy, and rain poured, relentless, outside the window.

His breath became fast, more ragged. No, no, Ciel didn't have to be scared anymore, Bard had said-Bard had said Sebastian was there.

Sebastian was there…

_ "But for how long?"_ whispered a traitorous voice, stinging as it brought back the images Ciel's mind had just run through. _"He did seem to stick around before that war of his, but how long will this calm last, hmm?"_

"Shut up shut up, shut up!" It came out a whisper. His fingers clutched at his scalp, pulling hairs out by the roots. Ciel couldn't seem to bring himself to care.

Ciel sat that way, huddled in his pillows and blankets, for a very long time.

There were dark circles under his eyes in the morning.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: No, I"m not dead! Although, with summer projects melting my brain, i might be soon. Anyway, we are finally seeing Finny in this chapter! I'm kind of sad, because I made him all serious and brooding, but no one in this story is very lighthearted anyway, so...yes. Thanks for all the support, and we should be talking to Tanaka in the next chapter! Please enjoy and don't forget to leave a review! Oh, and thanks to TheAUWalker for editing.

Disclaimer: Still don't own it.

Chapter 8

Finny didn't get to see The Young Master very much anymore. (Finny missed him.) That saddened him; Ciel had been so kind to him, giving him a home, and if the lord was a bit rough around the edges, Finny wasn't anyone to judge.

The truth was, over the past few years, he had come to think of these people-the manor's lord and its staff- as a family. Bard and Mey-Rin acted as his stand-in big brother and sister. Ciel seemed like a brother to him as well, if a bit of a stand-offish one. Tanaka seemed like a father, or maybe a kindly old grandfather-he gave good advice when he actually spoke, after all. And Sebastian….

Well, Sebastian was just that-Sebastian. There wasn't really any way to describe him, at least as part of a make shift family. He was the one who cleaned up after their messes, the one that brought them together, and protected the house and Ciel. Huh. Maybe he was the father? But no, Mey-Rin wouldn't squeak and blush at him if she saw Sebastian as a father figure, so that wasn't right. Besides, The Young Master already knew who his father had been. He didn't need another one.

A heavy feeling swirled in the pit of Finny's stomach. Maybe, if the Young Master had a father now, he would come outside more often, and Finny would get to see him. If the Young Master's father was alive, Ciel would probably be less of a recluse and might even play with Finny in the garden sometimes. Then again, he reflected, if the Young Master's father were alive, chances were that Finny wouldn't be here right now.

Still, that was beside the point. Umm…What was the point again? Oh, yes, it was that Finny thought of Ciel as a brother and a friend. To him, it didn't matter if the Young Master was a noble and he wasn't or that Ciel didn't seem to like spending time outside with him very much. Finny knew he just didn't like going outside very much. Asthma, and all that. And the Young Master just didn't mingle with very many people, that was all. So what if Finny was around all day? The Young Master had important work to do, he couldn't watch Finny chase Pluto around all day.

Sure, he had been a bit out of sorts and lonely the first few weeks he spent at Phantomhive Manor. He had been living in fear so long, had been cooped up inside, Finny couldn't bring himself to go in until dusk every day. That had cut him off from the others for a while, Finny being too busy running around outside until the novelty wore off, but the others had their share of adjusting to do those first days too. Bard settling into a safer work environment that _didn't _include people trying to kill him (at least, not every day) and Mey-Rin getting used to the fact she didn't have to carry a gun around in her hands and shoot every person in sight, but just like those two, Finny had settled in. And besides, when Pluto had showed up, he wasn't so lonely outside anymore.

He wondered if the same could be said for the Young Master. (Not being lonely, that was. He never went outside. Finny couldn't get over it-wasn't there something about being outside that was supposed to be good for you?) All of them were just waiting for him to say something, anything, more than professional. Finny knew that the rest of the staff was as loyal as he was to Ciel, so why couldn't they be his replacement family?

Finny sighed, and dumped more manure on the roses in the garden. Yes, alright, he knew that would never happen. Finny might not have been as smart as the Young Master or Sebastian, but contrary to popular belief, he did have the ability to think independently. And Finny knew that Ciel would never be very close to them-any of them.

Still, hope was good for the soul, right? Or was it the mind? The body? Well, that didn't really matter. What did matter was the fact that the Phantomhive staff was willing to die protecting Ciel. Without a second thought. They would kill for their lord, be killed themselves, keep him safe at all costs. Finny probably couldn't do it as neatly as Sebastian, but he could try. Why couldn't the Young Master see how important he was to his staff?

He had so many people, all the people in his employ that were willing to keep him company, but he never let anyone get to know him. What would happen if he did? Would Ciel be less quiet, more open?

And who would the Young Master relate to? Not Mey-Rin, she'd get too flustered. Bard, although a good substitute for a big brother, wouldn't know what to do if Ciel expressed his feelings… Tanaka? Maybe. He was there for Ciel the longest. But now that he just sat around drinking tea all day, it didn't really make sense to try holding a conversation with him.

Sebastian? Yes, that was probably it. Sebastian was _always _with Ciel. He saved the Young Master the most, the others couldn't do what he could. Sebastian was the ultimate protection that Ciel needed. The young lord seemed to disregard his own safety so much; he _needed_ Sebastian to be with him. And the butler was with him every step of the way.

Except… Except one time. Finny flinched, and the rake in his hands snapped in two. That one time, just a few weeks ago… That had happened when Sebastian had disappeared. He had told them he was going; he'd warned them that they couldn't let Ciel go without protection…

They had tried! Finny had tried so hard, and Bard, and Mey-Rin… They all had tried, but they just weren't able to do anything right. (Tears on his face dripped onto the dirt. Would that hurt the plants? Oh god, what if it did?) They had just left for a moment, just a single second. They hadn't meant to let the Young Master… to let _that_ happen.

Finny had been surprised the last few days. Ciel wasn't his normal self, hadn't been since before Sebastian's return, and he had noticed that Sebastian had noticed. But the Young Master wasn't talking to anyone, not that Finny blamed him. He was just surprised that Sebastian didn't immediately know. The butler knew everything, why didn't he figure this out? Sebastian was perfect at everything. If he had been there, nothing would have happened the way it did. Finny couldn't deny that. As hard as he tried, he could protect Ciel like Sebastian could.

But he had _tried_! He had tried so hard-he, and Bard, and Mey-Rin, and Tanaka. They were all so careful, but they hadn't been there, had lost sight of the lord at just the wrong moment, and now the Young Master was a shadow of himself.

Why? Why couldn't he do anything right? Even trying his hardest, Finny couldn't do anything correctly.

Ciel didn't need him. Finny hung his head. It was the truth. Ciel didn't need any of them, only Sebastian. Sebastian could do anything, Sebastian could do everything. Sebastian could do all the things that Finny couldn't, and Finny knew it. The Young Master knew it too, and Finnian didn't see why he didn't just throw him away. He _was_ a failure, after all. An experiment gone wrong, a boy too strong for his own good, a servant who wouldn't listen. Finnian was just waiting for the day when the others figured that out.

But one thing kept him from falling into despair completely. Sebastian was trying to find out what had happened to the Young Master. Finny knew he was-it was hard not to know, with the staff that the manor had. They were all very close to each other (another reason Finny wasn't so depressed-that brilliant thought; _he had friends!_) A few day ago, Mey-Rin had come bursting out the back doors to the Phantomhive Manor, almost tripping over Pluto (sunbathing as a human- Finny had to drag him back there so no one would see him naked) and collapsing on the bottom step. Finny had rush toward her, worried that something had hurt her. Was the house under attack? How did he not know?

Mey-Rin had been paler than the guest linens, but she had just waved him off when Finny had franticly tried to ask her what was wrong. She had told him all was well, that she was just startled. Or no, maybe she hadn't used startled-scared? Surprised? Finny couldn't remember, but he was pretty sure it was a negative feeling.

So Finnian had asked her what was wrong. She had told him all about it- that Sebastian had caught her with the broken china, which he hadn't cared about. Mey-Rin had described the way he had interrogated her, the way she had run without telling him about-about _it_. He had calmed her down (or at least tried to. She hadn't been very responsive, and Finnian hadn't actually known what to say. He had just rambled encouraging things) and Mey-Rin had finally smiled weakly and waved goodbye.

Days later, Bard had confirmed that Sebastian was determined to find out what, exactly, had gone on in the butler's absence.

Bard had burst through the doors to the kitchen late one rainy night. He had looked haggard and depressed. It had become a fashionable look within the household these days. Even Tanaka had been 'ho, ho, ho'-ing less than usual lately.

Finny and Mey-Rin had been eating a leftover pie from the Young Master's dinner. (Bard had been grumbling and scowling about how little Ciel ate nowadays, and Finnian couldn't help but be worried, too. Ciel never can out of the house-or his study, really-anymore either.)

They had taken Bard by the arms and heaved him into one of the chairs nearby. Mey-Rin had said something about a nice glass of milk, but Bard had grunted and glared, and the two had fallen silent. There was a moment of quiet before Mey-Rin, in a soft voice, (it had sounded like she was scared of the reply she might get, and was this becoming the usual for the Phantomhive manor now?) if it had something to do with Sebastian or Ciel. The answer was both.

By the end of Bard's story, Finny and Mey-Rin were completely silent, sitting like statues, and Bard had his head in his hands, elbows resting on the table. Throughout his tale, the cook's voice seemed dangerously close to tears.

Sebastian had talked to the others. Nervousness swelled in Finny's chest, because he wasn't an idiot. He knew that the butler would come to talk to him soon enough.

So that day, sweeping the steps of the manor, Finnian hadn't felt surprised when he had turned to find Sebastian had tapped him on the shoulder. In fact, all he had felt was a surge of wry acceptance. And maybe a bit tired, too. He didn't say anything.

Sebastian seemed to get the idea. His eyebrows rose slightly, but he dipped his head slightly as well. "Finnian."

"Hello," Finnian replied, leaning on the broom, hoping it wouldn't break. "Sebastian."

When he didn't offer anything more, Sebastian continues. "I would like to talk, if you'd be so kind?"

"Is it about when you weren't here?" That question had taken all his bravery to get out. Finny might have accepted his fate, but that didn't make it any better.

Sebastian nodded again. "Indeed. If you could tell me what went on?" But Finnian shook his head. Was it him, or did the sun just become much dimmer in the sky? What time was it?

"I can't tell you, Sebastian. I'm sorry. It's for the Young Master to tell, not me."

When he got a look at Sebastian's expression, Finny wished he hadn't. Not just because, frankly, Sebastian was down right terrifying-because of the look in his eyes. Way in the back, behind the anger and determination, and frustration. It looked-well, Finnian knew he was being silly, but it had almost been like desperation.

But there wasn't anything Finny could do to help him. He couldn't betray Ciel's trust like that.

"The Young Master doesn't talk much to me, Sebastian. I can't tell you how to get through to him. But-there is one thing I can say for certain."

Finny looked up at the window to Ciel's study, his grip on the broom tightening so that hairline fractures ran down its length. He had to consciously focus on loosening his fingers.

"He doesn't like to go outside alone."

(He never saw Ciel anymore.)


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Here it is, the new chapter! I meant for this to go in a completely different direction, but then it kind of...didn't. Anyway, I hope you guys like it! I really don't think it's my best work, but I've been away so long, I had to do _something._ I love all your nice reviews, and thank you for your support!

Disclaimer: Although I have tried valiantly, I still haven't gotten owner ship of Black Butler.

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><p>Chapter 9<p>

Ciel did not have dreams anymore. In fact, after the few weeks that Sebastian had been back, he hardly ever had nightmares. Of course, he had them about three to four times a week, but that was in comparison to the six or seven that had him up all night for weeks before his butler had returned.

Before, Ciel's nightmares were almost always about his parents. He remembers waking with a scream on his lips many times, feeling the ghosts of flames lick at his skin. Before, Sebastian had always been there, standing guard at Ciel's bedside within seconds of his waking. Sebastian would proceed to stay all night, and Ciel would soon stop shivering and go back to sleep.

They never spoke of it in the morning.

Now, Ciel dreamed of different things. Not quite memories, but not his imagination either. Ciel dreamed of the dark, of ice cold fear straightening his spine, and of gavel in unknown voices. The nightmares consisted of bruises and pain, of desperation and fear, of stone floors and the rough fibers of rope around his wrists.

Now, Ciel kept his nightmares hidden. He woke in cold sweats, shivering in the winter air that settled in his room as of late. Ciel's eyes never lost their dark rings, although sometimes he saw in his reflection that the crying had made them red.

Now, he did not call on Sebastian, subconsciously or otherwise. Ciel did not need Sebastian to keep such childish things as dreams from plaguing him. He did not want Sebastian's pity.

Ciel did not need hugs, or arms around his shoulders. He did not need to have his butler at his side every second of the day, or to know that he was always going to be saved. But he did want it.

Ciel wanted warmth. He wanted blankets and fires and tea, to be so warm he thought he would burst into flame. Anything to thaw out the chill in his bones. But he did not want to be touched. Not by anyone.

Ciel did not know what he wanted anymore.

All he knew was that the rain that pounded on the windows at night raised goose bumps on his arms and the hair on his neck. He knew that the dark scared him like never before, and that he no longer took comfort in the color red. (Not like he once did, when he knew that the pair of eyes shining out of the shadows at him were that color, were the meaning of safety.) Ciel knew that he was acting like a skittish colt, but he also knew that no matter what he did, he wouldn't be able to care.

He knew that the manor's servants were onto him, knew that they knew something was wrong, perhaps even irreversibly. Sebastian would be asking questions soon, and the others had the answers the butler would need, Ciel was sure of it.

And still, Ciel did not care.

Ciel knew his brain was muddled, that all these irrational fears were just that- irrational. The rain would not boil and sear his skin; the dark would not suffocate him in his sleep. He knew all these things. And yet, as hard as Ciel tried, he could not help being human.

And so here Ciel was, once again awake well past midnight, listening to the rain and wondering at the ruins of his pride. He curled in on himself again, limbs contorting in angles only the young could achieve, pressing back into the mountain of pillows at the head of the bed. Ciel repressed the urge to tangle himself in the blankets. Nor did he burrow further into the pillows. Instead, Ciel held his breath and tried to calm his breathing.

At least he had enough dignity left to refrain from calling out to Sebastian.

Pillows toppled off the edges of the bed as the rain began top pour once more. Ciel huffed out a breath, and refused to admit to shivering. A Phantomhive did not fear the _wet._ This was child's play, easy to solve.

The carpeting felt cold beneath Ciel's feet. The windows cast rain-drenched shadows across the floor, their length telling how late it was. Or perhaps how early, he mused.

Slowly, one dragging step closers every few minutes, he came to the doors.

The balcony was wide, spacious enough to accommodate four fully grown men to fit and still be comfortable. The sky above was pitch black, the only light shining from the moon weakly between clouds, as if playing hide-and-seek. The stone railing dripped with excess water, and the rain made it sound as if an army was tromping across the grounds below. Ciel never knew water could be so loud.

The gold handles were icy where Ciel touched them. He pulled his fingers back, hissing a breath in slightly. He hadn't felt that could since…

Anyway.

"This is so idiotic," Ciel muttered, and frowned at his reflection in the glass. This was easy, so easy it was stupid for him even to think about doing it. Why would he ruin a perfectly good dressing gown for the sake of proving his courage to no one but himself?

And yet his feet simply refused to back away from the door. _If it's so easy,_ a tiny, malicious voice in the back of Ciel's mind murmured, _then why haven't you been able to open the door?_

"Shut up," Ciel told the voice, and promptly flung open the doors.

The cold hit him in a blast, so cold it almost burned, and in that moment, Ciel considered turning back. But he had made it this far, and now his pride wouldn't let Ciel back down.

_Oh, is the little boy afraid of a little rain?_ Ciel's mind said.

I thought I told you to _shut up_, Ciel snarled at himself, and stepped into the open.

Water splashed across the bridge of his nose first. The material of his sleeping clothes was soon plastered against Ciel's skin, and he had lost feeling in his feet, shins, hand, and face. Frost formed before his eyes, and the air that had been making its way to Ciel's lungs seemed to have solidified in his chest.

As soon as Ciel realized this, he could feel the way his chest didn't expand. Frost ceased to form before him, but Ciel's limbs did not seem to be cooperating with his brain. A weight had settled on Ciel's chest, pressing on his lungs, _pressing him down…_

_ Hands, hands everywhere. Not like the other hands, the helping ones, that saved him from his asthma when he was little, nor the hands encased in pristine white gloves that held him to a warmer chest._

_ These hands were hot, and the sweat from them contrasted starkly with the icy coldness of the rain._

_ Ciel's lungs had stopped working a long time ago, and yet he was still alive, still conscious to feel all of these hands, these fingers that were bruising his skin…_

_ How many fingers were there? Five, ten… one person. But there had been more, so many more, and he just couldn't take it, the burning heat and the paralyzing cold, so harsh they were _killing_ him…_

_ Ciel opened his mouth to scream, and nothing but a muffled whimper came out._


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I_ still_ do not own Kuroshitsuji.

A/N: Well here it is! Sorry it was so long in the making! Short and slightly bitter, but it's what I've got so here you go!

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><p>Chapter Ten<p>

Sebastian's hearing was, of course, unrivaled. Every breath of the occupants of Phantomhive Manor, every twitch of those infernal mice, every slide of fabric against fabric when someone was walking down the corridors; nothing escaped him.

It would follow, then, that he would hear the opening of a door, even over the torrents of rain lashing at the windows.

The butler was inside _**Bocchan's **_suite in a matter of moments. By then, he feared (but never would admit it of course; demons do not_ fear_) it was too late. The Young Master stood stock still, as if carved from ice, out on the balcony. No frosty breath rose around his head, and water whipped down around him, surely hard enough to cause bruises to bloom on the Young Master's pale skin. Ciel's clothes whirled around his shins in the wind, strands of his hair floating around his skull in a wet, sickening parody of a halo.

Taking steady strides forward, Sebastian refused (absolutely _refused_) to acknowledge the tightness in his throat.

It was really only to be expected when _**Bocchan**_ came down with a severe cold the next day. In the morning, he could hardly speak, and didn't even seem to remember what had transpired the night before.

All in all, while the cold was a bit worrying (his fever would need to be watched closely), it ended up serving Sebastian's purposes quite well. He was able (between making sure the kitchen wasn't destroyed and that they had at least _some_ of the good china left) to think alone.

Demons, unsurprisingly, were infinitely more intelligent than humans. Honestly, it surprised Sebastian how long Ciel had managed to keep something so obviously important from his butler. It almost caused a slight smirk to flicker over his features when he found what he had been looking for.

The Young Master's cane (an old edition of the one he sported in public now; Sebastian knew Ciel only used it when he was running small errands and such) was located in the trash heap.

It was snapped in two, a jagged, deadly sharp edge on one half. His hands seemed cold when he picked the halves up. The jagged edge, the bottom half, was stained a rusty color, as was the head of the cane.

Sebastian didn't need a superior sense of smell to tell that the liquid sticking to the cane was blood.

The mud that caked the underside of Ciel's shoes (the pair, Sebastian had determined, he had worn on the same day that the unexplained _Something _had happened; Ciel had yet to wear them-or even look in their direction-since) was from a district almost halfway across the city from Phantomhive Manor. Sebastian was surprised; the two of them hardly ever went there together, never mind Ciel alone. But the dirt did not lie; Sebastian knew this gravely texture was quite different from that of any surrounding the manor, nor could it have come from the paved and cobblestone roads of the main roads of the city.

Sebastian wondered vaguely what he would find there. He was surprised to learn he would rather not think of it. It caused him to frown.

He sniffed slightly; it looked like it was time to give Pluto a little exercise.

There was an alley off the main road in the section of the city he and Pluto were exploring. Following the scent from Ciel's shoes as if chasing a particularly succulent looking rabbit, Pluto bounded off into the darkness near the end of the side street. Water which had been standing in puddles everywhere from last night's rainstorm splashed in wide, dirty arcs behind him.

Sebastian knew quite well what this looked like to all the normal mortals who shared the street with the two of them. A man in a nice suit with wild hair pressing his nose into the ground, clawing away with his fingers as if they were claws, bouncing around on all fours in broad daylight. And another man, walking upright and primly, obviously a servant of a high standing family, following at a sedate pace, carrying a pair of well-made boots far too small for himself in his white gloved hands.

They must think them insane. He wanted to laugh in their faces.

When Sebastian caught up to Pluto, he was sitting back on his haunches, whining for Sebastian to look at what he'd found. On the ground next to his right hand (curled like a wolf's paw, fingers toward his palm and hand flat to the muddied ground without a care in the world; it frankly repulsed Sebastian), lay two items. They had been more or less sheltered from the rain, hidden from sight at first glance. A crate, one of many that littered the road, had broken down nearby, one side propped up by the brick wall behind it. Underneath, the items were hardly even damp. On closer inspection of the broken crate, it was clear that something had been dropped on top of the bow. The way the boards had broken and the dark staining of the wood indicated someone fell- or was pushed- into it. The blood smelt strange. Sebastian knew that blood.

One, Sebastian knew on sight. It was the Young Master's hat, battered and unusable now. The hat's top was bashed in, hanging from one side by mere threads. The brim was bent and torn, the sides dirtied and almost concave.

The other item was not familiar to Sebastian. A long slip of fabric; he used two digits, his forefinger and his middle to pick it up. It was a tie, evidently made to look fair more expensive than it actually was. The cloth was cheap, the pattern simple. It was a dark green, the color of far off treetops. This, too, was stained with dirt.

Both the hat and the tie were streaked with traces of blood.

God help anyone's soul who had caused blood to spill from his Master.

The alley's smell was mixed; Sebastian raised his chin slightly to take in a whiff of rancid air.

Smells whirled around them, almost colors in their intensity. He smelled here, like many street such as this, the perfumed, poisoned scent of a prostitute's alluring skin, the musk of human sex, sweat and blood from several fights that unquestionably took place here in the past. Sebastian disregarded these for a certain scent. It stood out the most to him, being more familiar. He could smell the scent of fear-more specifically, that of his _**Bocchan**_.

It clung to the fabric of both the hat and the tie, stronger around the latter. Slipping both the hat and the shoes into the inner pockets of his coat, Sebastian turned and regarded the one beside him for a moment. Leaning down slightly (wary of the fact that a wet tongue might try to dart out at him at any moment) he offered the tie to Pluto. The man pressed his nose to the cloth obediently, inhaling deeply.

As soon as he'd gotten the scent, Pluto was off, leaping over rotting boards and twisting around the corner, wild hair whipping out of sight. Sebastian smirked.

It was high time he'd be getting somewhere with this.


End file.
